


Gluten-Free Chicken Pizza Soup

by were_duck



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Comfort, M/M, Other, Schmoop, Sexswap, Tentacles, unexpected transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/were_duck/pseuds/were_duck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little bit of tentacular, schmoopy caretaking first-time octocuddles. Written for novembersmith, who should have had someone bringing unidentifiable soup and snuggles yesterday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gluten-Free Chicken Pizza Soup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [novembersmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/novembersmith/gifts).



"Hey," Carlos said, poking his head around the corner of Cecil's bedroom. "Your garden gnome let me in. How're you feeling?" He crept carefully into the darkened room, eyes taking longer than usual to adjust to the gloom. Cecil--Carlos had to assume it was Cecil--was buried in covers despite the sweltering desert heat. 

The mountain of covers emitted a heavy sigh, then began thrashing alarmingly until Cecil's familiar, if uncharacteristically flushed, face emerged. "Carlos! I... wasn't expecting to see you! I'm sorry, I'm really in no state to be receiving visitors, my bloodstone altar hasn't even been scrubbed in a week and there's no tea or coffee to be found."

"It's fine, I figured as much. I'm sorry for bursting in," Carlos said, pitching his voice low and gentle as one might around a skittish half-tamed horse. "When I heard Intern Mark taking on your radio show for the second day in a row, I thought I might check in on you, make sure you had some food." He rattled the bag of gluten-free chicken pizza soup he'd picked up at Big Rico's. 

"Ah," Cecil squeaked, scooting aside and hiding deeper into the covers as Carlos gently set the bag of takeout on the bedside table and sat next to him on the bed. It was, he attempted not to notice, a rather large bed of superior firmness and high thread count sheets. The sheets were emitting an unidentifiable smell--rather like kale, perhaps--not unpleasant, in any case, which Carlos couldn't help but notice but chose to ignore. He was learning a lot of new strategic non-observation skills in Night Vale.

"Is this... I mean, I can go, if you'd rather..." Carlos said, awkwardly brushing the coverlet several inches from Cecil as the seconds stretched on in uncomfortable, tense silence. He tried not to think about how close Cecil was, and how intimate and strange it was to be sitting on his bed, right next to his clever hips and (usually) cheerful, gesticulating hands. 

"No!" Cecil said, his voice still unusually high. "No, stay, please. It's just, ah... well, I'm a bit laid up. It's an intermittent, somewhat embarrassing little complaint. I'll be fine in another day or two, and back at the mic. Poor Mark doesn't have the chops for announcing the news, if he doesn't slow it down and pep it up I'm pretty sure Station Management will convene another Staff In-Service and Sacrifice, and that always takes weeks to clean up," Cecil coughed miserably.

Another silence. "Cecil," Carlos finally ventured, "I... Well. I was worried about you, is all. Is there... is there anything I can help you with?" He pretended his thumb wasn't rubbing gentle little circles into Cecil's bedsheet, not bold enough to actually touch him, but. The bedsheets around Cecil flailed in a frankly disturbing way. "Is this about you turning into a woman--physically, I mean, I certainly don't mean to comment on your gender identification--once a month? Because I know about that, Cecil. I think everyone knows about it."

"No, no, it isn't that. THAT isn't a secret, it's a very normal condition that affects at least 15% of Night Vale residents, and to be honest it's been quite an enjoyable part of my life. I will admit it was a bit odd to buy tampons from the ghoul that runs the corner store down on Main, but in general... no. It's actually," Cecil squinted those crystal blue eyes, and Carlos thought he could see the flush on his cheeks deepening alarmingly. "This month, instead of the usual changes, I seem to have sprouted... rather more appendages. Ah." Cecil's lower lip trembled, and then he bit it with some modicum of courage and flung the sheets aside.

His entire lower body appeared to have transformed into that of an octopus, tentacles twisted in graceless, nervous little knots. One sucker clutched the corner of the top sheet to the bottom of Cecil's chin endearingly. 

Carlos... blinked. "Well, that's somewhat unexpected, Cecil. Though I must say, the dapples and striations here are a gorgeous shade of blue. They... they certainly match your eyes?"

"Oh, _Carlos_!" Cecil wailed, flailing his limbs. "You have no idea how tender they are, and how _cold_ I am, and I can't properly sit up in my desk or climb in my car, nevermind the likelihood of being taken for questioning by the Sheriff's Secret Police..."

"Shhhh, darling boy," Carlos said with the awkward affection he learned at his distracted father's knee. "Here, let me..." he reached out, slowly, and took the nearest tentacle in his hand. It was cool, spongy and a bit flaky like peeling sunburn. It twined sweetly around his wrist as he massaged into the rope of muscle experimentally. He tried not to think about how dextrous it was, how fine the motor control. For once, his first thought wasn't even about the battery of tests he could make in the name of science. No, the tests that sprang to mind were decidedly more... personal.

"Oh, Carlos. That's..." Cecil's voice had gone a bit low, and Carlos immediately dropped the limb. 

Carlos rubbed his glasses on the hem of his shirt, and carefully didn't see the way Cecil's gaze lingered on the strip of skin at his hip. It was probably just the lighting, anyway--how could he really be sure of anything in this gloom? All the not-seeing he was doing did give him a little jolt of confidence--possibly literally, the tingle in his fingers and spine felt not unlike the time he had gotten mildly electrocuted while attempting to investigate the composition of the Glow Cloud. 

After a moment, tentacles twisting up into a tight knot, Cecil sighed. "That felt... Please, Carlos, could you just..." and the groan he gave when Carlos slid his hands along the two largest limbs, seeking their center, was worth all the scientific discovery in Carlos's life. He drew their bodies together, resting Cecil's head on his shoulder. 

"I want... Cecil. Is this? Can I please...?" The way the tentacles were timidly wrapping themselves around his body made Carlos wish desperately for clever limbs to match. His own hands and legs felt suddenly wholly inadequate. 

"Carlos, oh I never thought... yes, Carlos, please, your perfect hands feel just so... by the eldritch gods, YES, keep doing that," He moaned, grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin at Carlos's neck. Carlos wished belatedly he had thought to shave today, but when he realized the enthusiasm with which Cecil was rubbing his cheek on his stubble he thought better of that wish. 

Carlos let his hands wander, doing his best to ignore the intimate way the tentacles sneaking under his button-down were setting his own skin afire with desire, the suckers attaching in a line of tight fire all along his torso, the tip quivering at his nipple. It was more than Carlos had ever felt at once, before, and he felt his body respond in a heady rush of endorphins. 

Carlos was a master at intense focus, however, and turned his attention firmly back to his exploration of Cecil's body. Finally, he found the base of the tentacle and encircled it with his hand, twisting the way he did to himself, alone in the emptiness of his apartment. Cecil's caught breath was encouragement enough to carry on with that line of inquiry, and Carlos brought his other hand into play on another tentacle, alternating the strokes he made until every tentacle of Cecil's body tightened, then shuddered for him while Cecil moaned into his neck. 

Carlos marveled at the way the texture of the tentacles changed when they were limp, long and drawn out and somewhat jelly-like. He tilted his head down to whisper into Cecil's tight black curls. "You feel wonderful in my arms. I think it must be true of all of your forms, but I might require some further examination. Just to be sure."

Cecil chuckled, twining all his limbs against him. Carlos was pretty sure he had a few delightful bruises and marks from some of Cecil's more overexcited tentacles. "For you, Carlos, I am always a willing test subject. Can we just... you're so warm..." he mumbled, and Carlos only smiled into the sweaty warmth of his hair as Cecil began to snore.


End file.
